


my words will be your light (to carry you to me)

by Lysippe



Series: The Worst Witch 2018 Winter Fluff-A-Thon [10]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Here there be angst, Of All People, because really where else would I, day 10: meet the parents, take this prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysippe/pseuds/Lysippe
Summary: The question had slipped out unintentionally, not at all planned and, in retrospect, not at all welcome, either.Hecate had just been so surprised, when Pippa had asked about her Christmas plans. About spending the holiday together, at Pentangle’s (“where there will be snow, and yes, Hiccup, I know you hate the snow, but please?”), alone. Just the two of them.And Hecate, forgetting in a moment the thirty years that had passed between now and the last Christmas they had shared, had thoughtlessly asked, “Are you not planning to spend the holiday with your family?” She had always known Pippa to be quite close with her parents - an only child, doted upon by a mother and father who loved her so unconditionally that it had been genuinely baffling to Hecate the first time she visited - and the idea that they would, in some way, not be a part of Pippa’s holiday plans seemed wrong to her.





	my words will be your light (to carry you to me)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this one is super angsty, so sorry about that? Sort of? Not really but like, I do feel a little bad. You get your happy ending though, I promise.

The question had slipped out unintentionally, not at all planned and, in retrospect, not at all welcome, either. 

Hecate had just been so  _ surprised _ , when Pippa had asked about her Christmas plans. About spending the holiday together, at Pentangle’s ( _ “where there will be snow, and yes, Hiccup, I know you hate the snow, but please?” _ ), alone. Just the two of them.

And Hecate, forgetting in a moment the thirty years that had passed between now and the last Christmas they had shared, had thoughtlessly asked,  _ “Are you not planning to spend the holiday with your family?” _ She had always known Pippa to be quite close with her parents - an only child, doted upon by a mother and father who loved her so unconditionally that it had been genuinely baffling to Hecate the first time she visited - and the idea that they would, in some way, not be a part of Pippa’s holiday plans seemed wrong to her.

Pippa had grown quiet, glanced away as though trying to avoid Hecate’s gaze. Biting her lip and picking at the cuticles on her thumbs, as she had always done when she was uncomfortable. When she had to do, or say, something that she truly did not want to. And Hecate knew, before the words were out of Pippa’s mouth, where she had gone wrong. Wished so badly that she could go back in time and not ask such a stupid question. Or at least, go back in time and kick herself for doing so. 

“Hecate,” Pippa said, slowly, seriously, “My parents passed. About ten years ago. It never occurred to me that you didn’t know, I’m so sorry. I should have mentioned, but to be honest some part of me assumed you knew. Though I’m not certain how you would have, in retrospect.”

The words she wanted to say caught in Hecate’s throat, as they so often did when she was faced with situations necessitating any kind of emotional response. She pursed her lips, struggled to find the correct words for the situation, but all that came out was a soft, broken “Oh,  _ Pippa _ .” She breathed in, watched as Pippa’s melancholy expression softened slightly. Breathed out. “I am deeply sorry for your loss.” It was trite, she knew. Not intimate enough for the situation, for the woman across from her who had been a fixture in her life, even in absentia, for the last forty years. But Hecate had never been any good with emotions, her own or anyone else’s, and despite her genuine sadness - far greater than she had expected, if she were being honest - those were the only words she could find.

Pippa’s family had, over the course of her teenage years, been more like a family to Hecate than her own had. They had welcomed her into their home, and into their hearts, for any holiday, any school break that Hecate could manage to get away. Which wasn’t often, but often enough that Hecate had, at some point, grown quite attached to them. And they, she had thought, perhaps, to her. They had even sent Pippa to school every year with a brightly-wrapped gift for Hecate, to belatedly celebrate her birthday over the summer. And Hecate, at one point, young and desperately, terrifyingly in love, had briefly entertained the notion that she might be adopted into their ranks as one of their own. In a sense, anyway. She could never truly have belonged in a family as bright, as loving and wholesome as Pippa’s. She had been too serious, too sad, even then. But a place to go over summer holidays, a place to maybe, finally, feel at home. A place to be with Pippa, for more than just the school year.

Mixed in among everything else was a grief for herself, for that dream her teenage self had held on to in her darkest, saddest moments, that had never come to be. But then, she thought, with ever-compounding guilt, she had been the one to kill that dream, and it wouldn’t do to wallow in self-pity over the consequences of her own actions.

Pippa, ever perceptive, placed a warm, reassuring hand over Hecate’s bicep. “Oh, hush,” she said gently. “It was years ago now, and truth be told, I got all of the condolences I could bear back then.”

She seemed genuine, and Hecate had always been quite good at seeing through the play acting Pippa did for the benefit of others. Nevertheless, guilt rose like bile in the back of her throat, and Hecate could feel herself flinch at the words, much as she willed herself not to. “I should have been there to say it when it happened,” she said, the words raw and painful, scratching at her throat like sandpaper. “I should have--”

But Pippa cut her off, gently but firmly. “Enough, Hecate. What’s happened has happened.”

Hecate wanted to argue, wanted to point out all of the ways that this was still very solidly a thing which she was correct to feel badly about. Wanted to explain the depth of the pain she felt over this, as well as the breadth. 

But that was a grief for her to bear alone, for the time being.

But Pippa, somehow, had always been one step ahead of her. She opened her arms, wrapped them tightly around Hecate’s shoulders, and whispered into the crook of her neck, “I know you miss them, too. But they would be so happy - they would be over the moon, believe me - to know that we had found our way back to each other in the end.”

Hecate allowed herself to relax into Pippa’s arms, just slightly, but enough that she knew Pippa had noticed. “I very much doubt that they would have been particularly pleased to know I was back in your life, after what I did last time.”

Pippa pulled back, her expression quite unreadable. “You’re right, Hecate,” she said, with a small roll of her eyes and a smile that was somehow at once teasing and frustrated. “They only birthed me, raised me, and saw me through the better part of my adult life to this point. There is absolutely no reason I would have any authority to speak for how  _ my parents  _ might react to something.” 

Hecate blanched, always singularly talented at putting her foot in her mouth when it really counted. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Pippa relented. “But I need you to trust me on this one. They loved you. Almost as much as I loved you, I think. And they were… disappointed, absolutely, when you left. But yes, Hecate, I believe they would have been thrilled. They asked after you for years, when you left. Always wanting to know what you were up to, if I had ever managed to get back in contact with you. They knew that I kept up with your life, as best I could. I think they knew, before I did, even, how hopelessly in love with you I was.”

Hecate frowned. “That seems… somewhat insensitive.”

Pippa shook her head, a wry smile forming on her lips. “Dad could never shut up about how clever you were with your potions studies, and Mum was absolutely delighted by your sense of humor.  _ That wonderfully dry wit _ , she always used to call it. They loved you like another daughter. I swear they’d have adopted you, if they could. I think the only person who never realized that, was you.”

Hecate didn’t know what to say, how to argue. Knew that the correct answer was certainly to  _ not  _ argue, but somehow that sat with her even worse. Because she couldn’t quite silence the feeling in the pit of her stomach, the one that now kept reminding her of the ripple effects of her actions, of the way that one decision had hurt more people than she had ever intended.

But seeing Pippa standing there, hands on her hips in a pose that Hecate hadn’t seen in years; and the same expectant, impatient smile that Hecate remembered from when they were children, broke down her resolve. “Well, I suppose if that is the case,  who am I to argue?”

Pippa laughed, a delicate, tinkling thing that cut through the heaviness, just a bit. “You wouldn't be you if you didn't.”

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr @ thebestdressedrebelinhistory


End file.
